Since returning to Australia I have been itching for some nice weather and a trip to the coast. Eggs Benedict and coffee in the warm sun overlooking the crystal curls of surf… there’s nothing quite like it. My last time here was back in June, down on the South Coast at Narooma. I was reminded how much I liked it down there, so headed back on Saturday morning, nice weather not quite here yet, but dry, reasonably warm and classic South Coast.
My first port of call was the village of Bodalla, just for a brief stop at the Big Cheese which I had inexplicably bypassed before. I don’t know if it is indicative of the fate of big things during these hard economic times, but the cheese was somewhat dilapidated, with associated gift shop long derelict and forgotten. Maybe there’s a dream job for me there… reinvigorate the Big Cheese complex. Hmm, something to mull over at the beach.
The beach I stopped at first was around Potato Point, a place I couldn’t help saying several times in an Irish accent… I was Louis Walsh with tourettes. It was, well, a fine beach to walk along, backed by bush and pounded by quite a big swell, the seas churning up jellyfish and surfers in equal measure.
Things were going well… my leftover homemade pizza made for a nice lunch on the clifftops, the sun was coming out and I was going all spontaneous like, veering off the Princes Highway onto a dirt road for a drive with windows down, smelling the – not roses – but lemon myrtle, and happy to be back on random dirt tracks down under!
Following my arduous drive, it was eventually quite pleasing to get back onto tarmac and trundle into Tilba for a gorgeous coffee, keeping me going for the final few kilometres to
Narooma. I like Narooma, it’s not too small or slightly creepy like some of those other out-of-the-way towns on the coast. Beaches on one side and the rather fine Wagonga inlet on the other. Excellent fish and chips. And whales – more of that later.
As it was, with the wondrous miracle of daylight savings, I still had a couple of hours before it became dark to enjoy Narooma. This gave me time to suss out a few lookouts, take photos at the ever photogenic ‘Australia Rock’, and chill out by the rivermouth where a seal or two were chilling out too.
Hmm, even after all that it was still light (I told you it was a miracle), so I moved on down over the golf course to one of the beaches. I’d been in this spot before, not three months ago but three years ago, sat on a rock as a pod of dolphins rode the surf. While history didn’t quite repeat itself, I still sat on that same rock and soaked up the remaining rays of sun.
The next morning I stayed around Narooma and its northerly neighbour, Kianga.
It was a morning of more walking along boardwalks and beside shorelines, simply perfect in its perfect simplicity. While not a walk in the guide books, my route following the northern side of Wagonga inlet, turning up along three sweeps of sand and culminating in Anton’s in Kianga. This was the spot for Eggs Benedict and coffee, and the main aim of the walk all along. Though not the greatest examples of either I have ever had, you could forgive them the food purely for the ambience and view through sunnies on the front deck.
And so there I was walking back in the direction of the car, very satisfied with all that had passed over the weekend, only for all that to be capped by a distinct pounding of water and white spray caused by only one possible thing. Cue clutching for binoculars, camera zooms extended to 18 times and – finally – sightings of a whale and its calf on their migration southward. I don’t think anything in nature can compare to the sight of a huge mega-tonne creature launching its bulk skyward, flipping mid-air before pounding like a bomb into the water. But enough of Vanessa Feltz (is she still on TV? Is she still amply proportioned?? Please substitute with the current in vogue fat person joke, probably someone on X factor or something…)
What a way to go. Suddenly my car was looking small and fragile, my pale body inadequate. But it’s what I got, and it’s gotta get me over that mountain, back to that little capital, with its lake, and, quite possibly, in one or two little corners, some little fishies.
Sunday morning was bright enough too, and encouraged me enough to head down to Tidbinbilla, which itself has undergone some transition. Most notably, an entrance fee, which seems to be funding signs for a few name changes from colonial Australian to Aboriginal and the odd new picnic bench. It seems as though they are putting in the effort though, and the money is going to some good uses, including a couple of new walks which seem to be on the map that haven’t been there before. The Cascade Walk took me to a little fern covered cascade and the Lyrebird Walk didn’t lead me to any Lyrebirds… the liars. It did find me stalking an echidna though, playing who dares wins to see which of us gives up first: me waiting for it to unfurl from safety or it waiting for me to sod off back to the car park. I was generally victorious and after finally getting a decent snap or too sodded off back to the car park.
Homestead. It was an average coffee but the best thing about it was being able to sit outside in the sun without a jumper or coat! From then on, the day seems to have got better and better, seemingly symbolic of the week ahead. Such good news heralds only one way to celebrate. Finally.
